


Be My Dad

by NikaylaSarae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Familial Soulmate AU, dad!janus, kid!Logan, mentions of scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: Janus has no interest in being a parental figure to a kid, but trying to convince the universe of that is another thing entirely.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 143





	Be My Dad

**Author's Note:**

> Written for A Vague AU Tumblr Prompt: _Guess I’m a parent now with Janus being the dad and Logan being the kid_
> 
> Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr Account @stillebesat.

To most souls, a food court was a necessary evil. Loud. Lots of people. But plenty of food options all together in one place. Perfect for those who liked a variety of choices or those who had picky eaters in tow.

It was a place to meet up with friends, family, or business associates. A place where one could sit back and observe society at work. To see people at their best...and most definitely at their worst. 

There was something soothing about the chaos that Janus enjoyed...as a spectator. He could never imagine being right in the middle of it.

Not unless he was doing what he was doing right now. Trying to hide in plain sight in the middle of a crowd.

After all. He was thirty now. Single. Childless.

Obviously a menace to society in a universe that seemed obsessed with everyone being part of a ‘family.’ 

A Universe that had decreed that all adults who remained childless by the age of thirty, would then be subjected to being bombarded with children in need of a proper parent figure to bond with in their lives.

He exhaled, absently brushing against the raised scar on his cheek, barely looking up as a child burst out wailing nearby.

He’d checked earlier. That particular wailer hadn’t had the golden sparks. It meant he was safe. 

For now.

He ran a hand through his hair, flipping another page in his notebook before he continued scrawling on the page. Maybe Virgil had actually been onto something when he said he was vanishing into the wilderness of Europe for the rest of his life. 

Sure, Janus had laughed six months ago when his best friend had turned thirty and begun complaining about all the kids coming out of the woodwork to ask him to be their Dad.

It’d seemed impossible at the time. To have children want to come up to Mr. Shadows Incarnate and expect Virgil to put them to bed and tell a bedtime story.

Now though, he understood why Vee had become more reluctant to leave his house as the year had worn on.    


Because the mini spawns really had come out of nowhere once his own thirtieth birthday hit. 

And it was awful. 

Wherever he went, it was inevitable that some child would approach him, shimmering golden sparks floating around them indicating that they were looking for a Parent Bond. 

It was also as inevitable that he would scare them away just as quickly. 

After all, his halfmoon scar and creepy yellow eyes had caused plenty of kids to scream and run with a single look years before his thirtieth birthday. 

No, at least Virgil had a bit of that shy emo charm that made him more approachable, even if the merest appearance of anyone under four feet had his best friend going pale as a corpse and ducking out before the kid could take more than two steps towards him.

Privately he was certain Virgil would find a kid perfect for him before the year was out, despite his best friend’s attempt to avoid the inevitable.

He knew Virge would make a good dad. Compassionate. Protective. His best friend had a dozen other traits that would benefit him when the right child flared with him. 

Unlike Janus.

Who could make a grown man cry with less than four words and a glower. 

No. He couldn’t imagine having any child coming to  _ him  _ in the middle of the night expecting comfort. 

He knew he was intimidating.

He knew he could be scary.

It wouldn’t be fair to subject a child to  _ that _ on a daily basis.

Honestly, it felt like a slap to the face that no matter how much he achieved, how many degrees he got, or businesses he owned, or careers he pursued, or money he made…

The universe felt that one couldn’t be  _ complete  _ unless said person also had a screaming, slobbering, dirty child in tow.

Janus ran a hand through his hair, again brushing the crescent scar on his cheek as he looked up long enough to watch a cluster of mothers with their dozen and a half children in strollers rush by, seeking salvation at the nearest set of golden arches with at least four of the kids already screaming for their happy meal toy. 

Even if he did make a  _ connection  _ with any kid brave enough to approach him _... _ Janus could never imagine trying to coerce a screaming brat into eating their chicken nuggets all by himself. Could never stand to walk around with food, slobber or worse,  _ vomit  _ stains on his best suits like a badge of honor. Could never be patient enough to listen to the long and rambling and pointless stories he’d heard multiple parents suffer through while observing them here in the food court.

No. There was no way Janus would allow the universe a say in how he ran these next five years of his life.

He had goals.

Life plans.

And he didn’t need some interfering Being with an obviously unhealthy parent complex ruining that.

The scrapping of a chair being pulled back broke through the gentle hum the noise the chaos of the food court had receded to, causing Janus to look up from his paper in time to see a boy, wearing a faded black long sleeved shirt with matching glasses and thankfully older than the screaming toddler throwing french fries six tables over, plop down in the seat across from him.

A child. With golden sparks shimmering in the air around him. 

Oh goodie.

Janus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. And here he’d thought that the fact that he’d caused a pair of twin girls, a baby, three boys, six preteens, and four other children under the age of five to scream in terror and/or burst into tears before the lunch rush had even started would have been enough for the universe to call it quits for the day on attempting a Parent Bond.

“I have a prospersition for you.” The boy said, making eye contact.   


Janus blinked, pen pausing mid stroke as he raised an eyebrow to the child. Prosper...prosper? Oh. “A prop-osition?” He asked, careful to pronounce the word correctly. 

The boy nodded once, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Prop-osition” he repeated, saying it properly this time. “Will you listen to it? Please?” 

Oh, now there was a please? The kid hadn’t even said hello. Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering the raised scar on his cheek, eyes darting about without much hope for any sign of a frantic adult looking for their wayward offspring as he sat back, tapping his pen on the table. “I’m busy.” 

The boy’s eyes flashed. “No you’re not.”

Janus scoffed, gesturing to his papers. “I assure you that I a--”

“Are doing what you do every Friday. You’re not busy. You just sit here. All day. Reading. Writing.” 

Observant. Janus frowned, again glancing around for a guardian figure. He didn’t think children thought much beyond eating, sleeping, and playing with their peers. “That is considered being busy by most people, I don’t have time to tal--” 

The boy shifted to his knees, the golden sparks dancing around him as he carefully placed eight quarters on the table before pushing the pile over to him. “For your time.” He said, looking up to meet Jansus’s eyes once more.

Clever. Not quite the amount he usually took for a consultation, but he doubted a child could come up with that much cash. Still. It was the first time one of these golden sparked spawns of the devil decided to  _ pay  _ him instead of screaming bloody murder. 

Janus exhaled, laying down his pen, sitting up as he clasped his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “I’m listening.” Though he doubted anything good would come from this  _ proposition _ . He could already predict the direction this would go.

The boy relaxed, though he stayed half kneeling on his chair. “I need you,” his mouth twisted slightly, grey eyes glittering. “to  _ pretend  _ to be my Father.” 

Father? Ha. Called it. “No.”

Golden sparks flared as the boy lifted his chin. “You didn’t even ask ‘ _ Why.’ _ ”

He smirked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pushed the coins back. “I don’t need to.” 

It was obvious why the kid wanted to play  _ pretend.  _ After all, the sparks surrounding him were only visible to those like Janus. Single. Between the age of thirty and thirty-five. Childless. If the kid needed a fake dad...well this wasn’t his first rodeo with the concept. “You either need protection from some bullies, which--” He gestured to himself. “You think I look scary enough to intimidate them.” Though not scary enough to keep the kid from bugging him in the first place. “Or else you have lied to your friends about who your Dad is or what he does and so--”

“You’re wrong.” 

Janus cut off, tilting his head. “Am I?” He was certain he wasn’t. 

“You are.” The boy kept eye contact, grey blue eyes hard as stone. 

It would be an intimidating gaze once he grew older, Janus was sure. “Enlighten me.”

The boy pushed the coins back across the table. “The Aquarium is having a Father/Son day today. I want to go.” 

Not what he meant by enlighten, but he’d humor the kid. “So?”

The boy rolled his eyes, shifting to his knees so he could better rest his arms on the table. “I can’t exactly partisiis--partissee--par--” 

“Participate?”

He nodded. “I can’t exactly  _ participate _ if I go by myself, dummy.”

Dummy? Who just helped the kid pronounce ‘participate _?’  _

Janus shoved the quarters back to the boy before picking up his pen, tapping it against the table. He could see the kid’s problem though. It made sense why the aquarium wouldn’t want to let hordes of little demon spawn run around tapping on the glass, licking the floors, and breaking things unsupervised. “I’m not spending fifty dollars to play your Dad, kid, just so you can look at some fish.” 

A pet store would work just as well and wouldn’t cost a dime.  _ If  _ he was willing to go along with this.

Which he wasn’t.

He didn’t even  _ like  _ fish. Not since that stupid childhood fishing accident that had given him the lovely scar on his face in the first place.

No way would he willingly go along with some brat to a place filled to the brim with the creatures.

Despite how brilliant of a scheme it was. One Janus would have used himself though under different circumstances. 

Though he supposed, if he felt like admitting it, which he didn’t, but he still---it…. _ hurt  _ in a way, that the kid, even having the sparks, just wanted to use him to get in to see some boring fish instead of trying out a real  _ Trial  _ with him to see if they had any sort of parental bond. 

It was a stupid feeling. 

He should be used to being used. 

The boy adjusted his frames, barely blinking as he shoved the quarters back across the table, staring Janus down. “Adults get in for only ten dollars today. Kids get in free.  _ If.”  _ He emphasized the word. “Their  _ Father _ brings them.” He shifted in his seat, pulling out a twenty and slid it across the table. “For your ticket.” He said simply, eyes flashing. “I’m only asking for your time. I don’t want to go on a Trial with you. I don’t need or want a Dad. I just need an adult with the time on his hands to pretend to be one and let me esplore the place for two measlely hours.”

Double ouch. At least some kids attempted to do an actual  _ Trial Run  _ with him to see if their sparks would Flare before being so blunt in telling him he wouldn’t be their Dad. 

Janus frowned, already shaking his head. “Kid, I don’t--” 

The boy pulled out another twenty, placing it on the table. “Two hours.” He said simply. 

“You don’t even  _ know _ me--” Sure, he knew the boy knew he was in the  _ Trial  _ stage of life since the stupid floating sparks thing, even if he couldn’t see his own, went both ways. But that didn’t mean that he should just shove--

The boy placed a  _ third  _ twenty on the table. 

Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering his scar as he glared at the child. “You’re seriously  _ bribing  _ me? Where did you even get that much cash?” Hopefully it wasn’t stolen, but he’d applaud the boy for being so prolific in his thievery. 

“Not important.” The boy stated, pulling out a  _ fourth  _ twenty without breaking eye contact. 

_ Why _ was he being so persistent?! Any other child would have run away by now. 

“Why me?” He demanded, leaning forward, sneering in a way he knew made his eyes look even more creepy. “Why not bribe some other--”

The boy hesitated, a  _ fifth  _ twenty already in his fingers as his steely gazed wavered. “If I tell you why, will you go with me to the Aquarium?” 

That was hardly a fair exchange. The answer could be super simple and he’d be stuck with the kid for two hours. “I’m going to stick with my ‘I’m scary theory,’” Janus said instead, gesturing to his face. That was the usual reason kids gave in most circumstances. 

The boy frowned, lifting his chin. “I can be scary enough on my own without your help.” He said shoving the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing an angry red corded scar that wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder. “We match, kinda. Your scar looks similar. Makes it easier to pretend that you’re my Dad. That we were in the same accident.” He pushed the pile of money towards him. “And if anyone suspects you aren’t my birth father, then the sparks will show them that we’re on a Trial and that our scars mean we’re  _ meant to be. _ ” 

_ Meant to be.  _

It took a lot of effort to not touch the crescent mark on his cheek. To ignore the fluttering in his chest at those words.

_ They’re just pretty little lies.  _

Sure, there were ongoing theories that families all shared a similar trait that marked them. Whether that was having a mole on the same part of their stomach, sharing a taste in mustard, having an allergy to hay, hair having the same cowlick, or having similar looking scars--Janus kept his hands firmly on the table as he pulled his eyes back up to meet the kids. 

It was hearsay though. Nothing had ever been proven. Not when the sparks flaring between parent and child was a far more accurate indicator that they were meant to be a family. 

No, he highly doubted anyone would Flare with him during this five year torture period. Not even this kid despite the sparks dancing between them. 

Janus took a steadying breath. It was fine. He didn’t  _ need  _ a family. Not even a pretend one for two hours. He was better off alone now that Virgil had harred off to who knew where. “How long do I have to wait before you run out of twenties and give up?” He said, keeping his voice cool. “Because I’m not taking your bribe, kid, regardless of the amount. You’d be better off hiring a nanny or something.” 

Though he was curious just how much the boy thought it would take to convince him to go along with this farce. 

The kid made a face. “I don’t want to be  _ coddled  _ the entire time.” He snapped, the fifth twenty vanishing as he shoved his sleeve down. “All anyone ever does is treat me like I’m breakable since--” he gestured to his arm, the scars once more hidden. “And I’m sick of it. You look like you’d happily let me fall off a bridge if I wasn’t careful and I just...I just--” He shook his head. “I need to not be cared about for a bit.” 

Let him fall off a bridge? Ouch. Janus focused on relaxing his clenched hands, one finger at a time. “So you have a death wish? I’m not gonna be complacent to--”

The boy growled, slamming his hands on the table, steel grey eyes hardening even as they shimmered with unshed tears. “ _ No. _ I just want to look at the  _ fish. _ ” He hissed. “I want to esplore. Learn. SEE. Without having a grown-up hovering over me like I’m freaking china. All you would have to do is stay near enough to keep any other metaling adults away. That’s all I want. For two hours. To be treated like a normal kid.” His hand clenched as he took a breath, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you of all people would understand that.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the scar and back.

It took  _ a lot  _ of effort to not touch his face. To maintain eye contact. 

Sure.

He understood. 

Janus had wasted years chasing that particular dream throughout high school and well into his first couple of years at college. 

It had all been for nothing. 

People judged the book by the cover. Few ever took the time to look deeper. 

And it sucked that Janus was being forced to reckon with the fact that if he didn’t go with this kid and pretend to be his Dad, he’d be like every other adult unwilling to give the boy a chance to be ‘normal.’ 

…Great. Just. Great. 

He’d just been guilted into spending two hours looking at the fish. 

Janus broke eye contact, cursing under his breath as he shoved his papers into his book bag and stood, grabbing his jacket and hat off the chair. 

Maybe he should follow Virgil’s lead and disappear into the wilderness for the next four and a half years if the kids were going to start pulling this type of act on him. 

“You got a name, kid?” He asked, fishing out a single twenty from the stack before shoving the pile back at the boy.  _ Enough for the ticket. That’s it.  _

The boy caught his breath, eyes going wide. “You mean--”

How could eyes hard as steel one second go so soft like freshly fallen ash the next?

You know what. He didn’t want to know. If the kid knew how to do puppy dog eyes, then he knew how. That was that, but after today Janus would  _ not  _ be falling for them again.

“Name.” He repeated, impatiently gesturing for the boy to follow him as he tugged his hat down over his eyes. “Else I’ll make one up and I guarantee you will not like it.” 

The boy was by his side in a flash, golden sparks swirling. “Logan.” He said, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. “My name is Logan.” 


End file.
